


Take Me Home, To A House On A Hill

by EldritchMachine



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Character Death, Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23749018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchMachine/pseuds/EldritchMachine
Summary: The dragon rests on its rightful place, and its vessel, now unbound, has been given a second chance to live as a mortal. A simple, common life... That's what Wolf wishes he could give him, but he keeps his distance, and protects him from afar. The string that ties them together, however, is stronger than he would have ever thought.Set post Return / Dragon's Homecoming ending.
Relationships: Kuro | The Divine Heir/Sekiro | Wolf
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	Take Me Home, To A House On A Hill

**Author's Note:**

> My brain is apparently fixed on the idea of writing at least one fic for each ending, and so here we are. This time, it is the Return (or Dragon's Homecoming) ending's turn.
> 
> Just a quick explanation beforehand. This is post Return, and taking two common theories about it as the set up: one, that the Divine Child is pregnant with a reincarnation of Kuro's soul, and two, that the Dragon's homeplace is Korea. Not necessarily my headcanons about the ending, but the ones this particular story is built upon.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one!

**i.**

She lies on the ground, cold and silent, her eyes closed, her pale lips expressionless. The baby doesn't cry, doesn't scream, just gasps softly and wrinkles his tiny, dirty face in the discomfort proper of a newborn. He fits almost entirely inside of Wolf's hands, and he cradles the small being with all the gentleness, all the tenderness he can conjure, wiping his soft skin of blood, feeling him breathe in hiccups under his thumbs.

Kuro is alive. He's alive, once more, against all odds-

And, for that, she lies dead on the grass, her fragile, wretched immortality traded with the divines for Kuro to be brought into the mortal world, once his soul was unbound and released, and the Dragon put to rest at its rightful place. She knew this would be her fate, maybe so since the beginning of the journey, and Wolf doesn't have anything but infinite gratitude to her kind spirit. He cannot mourn her, or give her any ceremonials, but, after wrapping the infant with his own scarf, keeping him warm on the insides of his coat, he kneels beside her to at least dedicate a brief pray to her suffering and her compassion. He hesitates for a single moment, but finally reaches for her hand, gelid as it was when she still breathed, and takes the beads from her wrist, the modest bracelet that accompanied her the whole journey and that, Wolf guesses, was a reminder for her of the silenced ones, the ones that were, much like her, sacrificed to the greediness of men.

Although regretfully, he leaves her behind in the darkness of the forest, knowing that she will be reclaimed by the lands of the Dragon, where she would hopefully, ultimately rest in peace. Wolf knows that the one offering his life and his now lost immortality to perform this blessing should have been him, and he would have done it without a blink of doubt. He has overstayed his time on the land of the living for so long now, that it almost feels like he and the breathing, living, warm infant he carries against his chest belong to entirely different realms. Kuro deserves to live. She deserved to live. He... Well, he _has_ to live. Like it has happened, strangely, too many times now. Even thinking otherwise would be disrespectful to her mercy. And, after all, the baby on his arms depends entirely on him to survive now.

**ii.**

The house he is looking for is unmistakable; as he has been told, it's slightly removed from the rest of the buildings, just a bit, enough for its additional workshop space, marked with a wide vent, to flow its fumes towards the woods, opposite to the village. "You may try your luck with the blacksmith's," had said the small, kind-faced lady. As expected, she seemed to put on a steel facade as soon as Wolf approached her at the side of the road, but her brow softened when she saw the sleeping baby tightly wrapped against his body. "They are grieving a poor, sickly child lost too soon- Just a bit older than this little one."

He has thought long about this, has thought about it since leaving the darkness of the mountains of the Dragon, while he returned to the coast, while he bundled himself, with Kuro tucked in the hollow of his neck, in the depths of the merchant ship in which they crossed the sea back home. There is no hesitation in his mind about his duty- He will protect his master until the very end, under any circumstance, whatever it takes. But this sweet baby child cannot be brought up by him. He needs a family. He deserves a family. Parents that care for him and guide his growth into a happy, healthy person, someone completely removed from the war and death and misery that was his previous life. To remain with him... To do so would mean for Kuro to never be able to leave his past and his torment behind. Even if it pains him so, in the very core of his being, as never has anything pained him before, to divide their paths is the only right thing he can do now.

The man and the woman that receive him into their humble abode look at him with unsurprising understanding, although Wolf is certain he can see shadows of grief in her dark eyes. He does the only thing he can do in this situation: lie. In brief, stunted words, he tells them that the baby is an orphan found by him, who did only the humane thing to do and took him to the nearest village to seek for help, and they don't question him. Even though the war has waned recently, especially on these parts of the country, it's still very much a real threat that hovers over the lives of every commonfolk outside of the big cities. It doesn't take a big leap to buy this kind of story, even when it comes from a man such as him, who visibly carries the weight of the dead on his shoulders.

She takes Kuro into her arms, her tender gestures revealing the experience of motherhood, and her eyes look a bit brighter, a bit softer. Wolf is fully aware he is most surely taking advantage of their recent loss, but it's what he has always done, after all, exploiting the weaknesses of others to achieve his goals- He only wants for Kuro to be safe. It's the only thing that matters. The only thing he cares for.

The woman nods, and Wolf feels such a warm relief in his chest, such a burning dread on the pit of his stomach. She will take the baby in. She will adopt him, make him part of her family- He knows this without her even opening her lips. Her hands are loving and gentle as she cradles Kuro's tiny frame, and Wolf thinks, in his sharp judgment, that he will be fine with these people.

"This belongs to him," Wolf tells them, as he handles the Divine Child's beaded bracelet to them. "As well as the fabric he is wrapped in," he speaks, for the first time in a long while, before thinking twice about what he is saying.

His scarf... It is now unimportant. It won't mean anything to Kuro when he grows up, even if his newly found family keeps them for him as a sign of respect of where he came from. It would be just an old piece of cloth, with no memories he could attach to it. And yet, in the most profound part of his mind, he wishes it can be of comfort for Kuro when he is older, perhaps a sign that he was loved and cared for even before he was left to the care of strangers, that the wishes and the duties of the one who left him behind were just at odds with each other, and that he chose to take the path that was best for him. Wolf knows it's just selfish wishful thinking, but it has already been done.

He needs to get out of the house before he regrets his decision, and thus, he thanks them in a hollowed voice and prepares to take his leave. Every single part of his body feels like it's made of the heaviest of stones, and he is painfully aware of the missing heartbeat resounding against his.

"Wait, I beg of you. This child, does he... do you happen to know his name?"

Wolf looks at her for a moment. There is a myriad of reasons why he should stay silent, why he should shake his head and turn his back to her to leave for once. But, even if his recklessness turns into remorse at a later time, none of them seem to be strong enough to prevent him for answering.

"Kuro."

**iii.**

The heavy, motionless body hits the soft grass with a dull sound, and Wolf covers it with a tattered piece of fabric, to keep the insects and any curious small animal from approaching it. The sky is starting to turn dark grey by the east edge of the woods, and he only needs to wait for a little while to prop the deer on his shoulders once more and begin the descent through the mountainous forest towards the village.

Sitting on the edge of the short veranda that runs the entire side of the small cottage, he dedicates himself to the familiar task of detaching the prosthetic arm from his severed appendage, his hand working with precise, almost automatic movements. He unfastens the ropes that keep the artificial limb tight against what is left of his upper arm, and loosens the metallic mechanisms that dig into his skin- The procedure follows a particular order that has been engraved on his mind with great detail for a long time now, and his callous fingers complete the task in almost no time. As the stump of his arm gets free, he feels the sharp burn of the furious red lines where the iron fixes compressed into his flesh, but pays it no mind, as it is no more than part of the routine.

The prosthetic arm is still in good shape, although he recognizes that his maintenance techniques are slightly clumsier than its former owner's were. Its functionality, though, is an entirely different matter. Wolf has felt the jerkiness of its motions with more frequency lately, as if it were in need of a proper cleaning and oiling, but that is simply impossible- The arm is perfectly clean, perfectly greased, no rust or unsecured parts in sight. He probably knows the answer to this predicament, but also knows that he cannot do what it takes to solve it.

He wishes, in fact, he could be able to leave it behind, to get rid of it for once and keep it out of his mind until he forgets its mere existence. The truth is, however, that he cannot fend for himself properly without it. As there is only one thing he is good for, he had no other path to choose than to find the most efficient way to survive under the circumstances at hand. He keeps peace with himself by only requiring the prosthetic while he is on the hunt- The rest of the time, the arm rests well bundled in a wooden chest, wrapped in thick cotton to guard it from building up rust and dirt.

His little cottage, if he can even call it _his_ , is sparsely furnished. A ragged futon in the corner, a small hearth in the center of the only room, the surprisingly well-kept chest against the further wall. Wolf moves in the quiet darkness with easiness, as he needs no light to see the surroundings with clarity, and takes care of his instruments, unhurriedly but with a pace that denotes rigorous practice. He cleans the arm and nests it on its improvised case at the bottom of the chest, to then do the same with his blade and his knife, wiping the blood from the steel against his thigh and resting them besides the prosthetic. The insides of the trunk bear almost nothing more than these few, useful tools, although he has been unable to get rid yet of the tiny sack that also lies within. He hasn't examined its contents in a while, but figures that they remain as pristine as ever, even if such a thing sounds quite ridiculous.

Before her parting, and probably thinking of what was to come after it, the Divine Child gave him a small pouch, filled to the brim with cold, soft, almost glowing grains of rice. It had left Wolf with a strange impression, since she hadn't produced rice anymore after she lost her sight and her blood turned cold, but he took it anyway, knowing that it was of importance. He only understood what it was for when he was left alone with an infant Kuro that he didn't know how to keep alive- As it was his only choice, and because, after she sacrificed what was left of herself for this baby to be alive, Wolf trusted her, he fed him with a single grain of shining rice when he was starting to get fussy and stressed. Unexplainably, but expectedly, Kuro seemed sated immediately by the small grain, that dissolved inside of his tiny mouth. To this day, Wolf doesn't understand how that could be, but he never questioned it. After all, she made a lot of extraordinary things- her last gift was only one more of those.

He has no use for those grains of rice now, even if they had never gone bad, retaining even long after they should their coldness and freshness, but he finds himself unable to get rid of them. He keeps clinging to the past, and that's why he also is unable to leave.

From the very first moment, he had found so many resounding, convincing reasons for why he should leave. The first few months, he spied on Kuro's new family incessantly, at different times of the day, wanting to make sure he was safe, that he was cared for, that he was fed properly and treated properly and was growing properly. And, in fact, he was. His new family was humble, like most of the inhabitants of the small village were, and very hardworking- his father a blacksmith that mostly occupied himself with making tools for farmers and wood artisans, his mother a proficient household keeper that took care not only of Kuro, but also of her two older children. The kids were still quite young, but cooed and coddled at their new baby brother with juvenile enthusiasm. It was evident that his decision had turned to be successful, and thus, he was most probably not needed anymore. He had already fulfilled his role. Leaving for once and letting Kuro live his new life to its fullest was the sensible thing to do.

...Wasn't it?

And yet, he stalled. He dwelled in the outskirts of the village for a time, until he came upon an abandoned cottage up in the forested hills- It was rudimentary and in bad condition, but some sneaking around the settlement had let him know it was home to an old hunter, that had taken the blade when the war was the closest to their home that it had ever been. The man never returned, and his house remained as it was in the darkness of the woods. Wolf damned such chances. If he could remain close enough, but still out of his sight... He could watch over him without interfering. He could protect him, even if there was probably nothing he needed to be protected from anymore.

These first few months, he tried to convince himself every day about leaving, about how obtuse he was being with his choices, about keeping out of his thoughts the soft brown eyes he still had carved into his mind, that he could still see every time he closed his own. But his head kept coming back, once and once again, to his expertly crafted excuses to not do any of that, and he eased himself into a newly found routine- He knew what he was getting into, but pretended not to, ignored it in favor of heavy duties and self-imposed tasks. He hunted to feed himself at first, but then, when the need for a bigger prey to keep his senses and skills well-honed finally got to him, he dared to descend to the village one early morning, with nothing more than a decently sized deer curled over his shoulders.

Finding himself a client wasn't a problem- Most of the materials that could be extracted from the animal he carried with him to the morning market were useful for multiple purposes, after all. Actually dealing with the townsfolk proved to be a bit more of an annoyance, but he just takes care of his business and leaves most times, and people has just learned to avoid him outside of any dealings due to his disinterest in anything resembling a social affair. He crosses paths with Kuro's father at times on the market, and the man acknowledges him with a gentle bow of his head- He probably thinks nothing of it, seeing Wolf as just another survivor of the war in search for a place to rebuild some sense of dignity. Evidently curious, and probably quite suspicious, some still approached him at first. "How does a man with only one arm hunt such big wild beasts?" They asked. "I have been doing it all my life," was the only answer he offered.

This time is no different than any other time. The sun peaking weakly through the dense trees and his tools safe in the depths of his now locked chest, he manages to prop the game over his shoulders and keep it safe there with his only hand, to then start his long walk towards the village. He will find the butcher, sell his goods, briefly shop for anything of necessity, and go back to his seclusion in the heights of his forest. Hunt. Sell. Make a repair here and there to the small house. Grease his arm, clean his blade. Eat when necessary, meditate when his thoughts are unneeded. And sometimes, only sometimes, only as scarcely as he can tolerate, he stalks the familiar shape of Kuro's family house to placate his head and soothe the wariness that has taken a seemingly permanent residence on his chest.

**iv.**

The high-pitched, pearly laughter rings on his ears warmly, and Wolf's heart beats with a softness he almost forgot he could feel. It's a sound he hasn't heard before quite like this, but that it's still unmistakable to his sharp senses.

It happens sometimes that he remains around the village market just a bit more than he expected, waiting for one merchant or another to sort their products or their coins, collecting his supplies from this or that stall. This light, greyish morning, however, he wishes he could find an actual suitable excuse to stay around just a bit more- Just a bit. He needs only just a bit.

The first couple of years, he was too undisciplined. His skill is still above of what the untrained commonfolk could perceive, fortunately, but he gave in to his longing too much and too frequently, his feet leading him almost unconsciously to the skirts of the blacksmith's house to make sure everything was still fine, still calm, still safe. His longing never waned, but he learned to at least control his rational thoughts about it, to convince his own limbs to not seek for something he shouldn't. He keeps track of time with painful precision, and he knows for a fact that he hasn't been near that place for long, long months now.

But, one day, this was bound to happen. Children are lively and carefree, and the market, although the realm of busy adults, is still roaming territory for the young ones, especially those who are already of age to run errands for their families or to be tasked as swift messengers.

It's not the case of Kuro, of course- He's only just a bit older than four. But it is for his oldest brother, who is probably ten or eleven, and who walks around with an air of doing something of utter importance as he delivers packages to the merchants he has known all his life. After him, trail his two small siblings, trying to keep up with the pace, joining in a task that is not required of them, but that has them curious and excited about the bustling hub of the village.

Wolf's eyes follow the youngest of the group from a prudent distance. How merrily he runs around, following his older brothers, his cheeks flushed with laughter and his eyes shining with the levity only a child can show. He's younger than he had been when they met for the first time, but everything about him is the same as it always has been: his raven dark hair, now black on its entirety, his soft rounded face, his big brown eyes. Wolf wishes he could see him better, but doesn't dare to get closer than he is, conforming instead with watching over his small, happy steps from afar.

He's alright. He's _alright_. He is alive, and healthy, and growing, and having a real family, and flourishing surrounded by common, loving people instead of being isolated and targeted constantly like his past self was. He will grow, and mature, and live a mundane life like everyone else in that small village, maybe have a family of his own, children of his own, that would be around his deathbed when he passes away from his newly mortal life. And Wolf will look after him from the distance, protecting him and his own for as long as he can, until his life finally expires too.

**v.**

Things, however, don't come to pass in the slightest as Wolf expected them to.

Deep down, he knew this could happen. He tried to prevent it as best as he could, but it still was a possibility. That their eyes would cross one day, that Kuro, in his undying softness and kindness, would smile at him and maybe talk to him, casually, out of politeness. Although they have never interacted before, Wolf has always been sorely aware of how close they were to each other sometimes- He would be taking care of his brief trades, when a familiar, light succession of steps would pass by him, immersed in his world, be it playing, running errands or just taking a stroll through the market with his siblings. Even when his pace was accompanied by a multitude of other ones, Wolf could still make out the sound and weight of Kuro's movements, sometimes forcing himself to bask in the sound of his feet and his voice without turning back to look at him, trying to exercise discipline, trying to be as subtle as possible. He isn't worried of what other people could make of it, as he is of Kuro himself becoming aware of this gruff, surly stranger following his every move.

That morning, as cold and austere as any other, the usual routine repeated itself: carcass propped over his shoulders, he didn't dwell on pleasantries and made his business with the butcher, to then pick up here and there a few necessities to bring back with him to the house in the forest. He always makes the same path, always buys the same things. He lets his body perform the same actions over and over, while his mind focuses on less menial tasks. If he notices Kuro is around, his senses and attention focus on him; if not, he still puts his ears to work, gathering any useful information that he can pick from the conversations all around the place. He doesn't stall more than necessary, and today would not be the exception.

Or so he thought.

"Ah- Mister! Please, wait for a bit!"

A voice soft as silk, clear and light. More childish than he remembers, for sure, but still recognizable, still his. It's the first time he hears him so closely, and Wolf wonders who is he talking to. Would he notice if he just looks briefly, only for a second...?

Their eyes meet, and Kuro smiles.

"I have a package for you," he says, and raises his small hands to show him a flat, elongated shape wrapped in a coarse piece of cloth.

There is no doubt that the kid is talking to him. But why? He had asked the butcher a while back to order a new knife for him, but he was expecting to pick it up at her stall, not... this. Kuro is still too young to be handling such dangerous objects. He seems to be handling it delicately enough, though, his demeanor a bit more reserved, a bit more composed than Wolf has spied until now. His heart bleeds as he looks at him, but his chest still aches with tenderness towards such clear brown eyes, full of kindness and wonder. There isn't any recognition in them, of course- they are no more than complete strangers now. If that means Kuro is safe, though, he is more than willing to endure it so.

"My older brother says you are frightening, so he told me to bring you this. I don't think you are scary, though," Kuro says.

Such unsubtle words would have never come out of the old Kuro's lips, even at the youngest Wolf knew him, but his voice is still as gentle as it always was, and Wolf is in awe at how much he sounds like himself, despite his age and his choice of words, at how collected he seems even when talking with a man like him. Wolf knows he is not an appealing sight, his clothing stained with blood and his brow downturned into a permanent frown. It's no wonder Kuro's brother is hesitant to approach him. But Kuro... His eyes are sincere- he is not afraid, he doesn't feel any kind of rejection towards him.

Wolf knows he shouldn't feel such a warm relief in the pit of his stomach about this, but he does.

"Oh," Kuro chirps, looking at his only arm, full with a couple of heavy sacks and a wooden box. "I can help you carry your things. Or I can bring this to your home later," he says.

As kind as ever, Wolf thinks- to then realize the kind of thing he is permitting himself to think. Kuro is a different person now. He shouldn't be regarding him in such terms, as if he were somehow a continuation of who he was before.

"I live in the forest," he says.

Kuro blinks, and then opens his eyes in amazement. "Really? Do you live _inside_ the forest? Oh, my brother said you are a hunter! That makes sense."

There is transparent curiosity in his face, maybe even sympathy- but that would be impossible. For Kuro, they have just met. Surely, it must be just Wolf's wishful thinking, even though this is something he has no place wishing for. His thoughts are starting to get bothersome. He needs to leave. He needs to pretend this never happened.

Wolf approaches him with slow steps, and leans forward slightly to put the surface of the box in his arm at Kuro's level. As expected, the child understands the gesture and carefully leaves the padded knife on top of it. He nods in mute gratitude and, without delaying, turns around and starts walking towards the outskirts of the market.

"Ah- Thank you! I'll see you around next time!" Kuro says after him, his words quite informal but his voice the same soft color as it always was.

With each step that carries him away from everything, Wolf feels the tightness on his throat compress into itself more and more. Still after all these years, it was his most profound, spontaneous reflex to kneel before Kuro, to kneel before his master- His body hadn't moved a muscle towards such desire, but he still has the most vicious sensation of doing something incredibly disrespectful at not putting his knee on the ground and, of course, bailing out of his sight without even a proper farewell. It has to be done, though, he knows. Kuro is still too soft, too kind, and he needs to patch his own bleeding wounds for once and discourage him from seeking to talk to him again.

**vi.**

Still, everything gets out of Wolf's hands after that.

They don't meet the next day he walks down to the village, or the next one after that. But it eventually happens, the cloudy, sticky morning where both of them happen to be around the market at the same time. They mind their own business- Wolf in his usual, brief routine of selling, shopping and evading the small talk of the townsfolk, Kuro following one of his older brothers on his errands, helping carrying things, exchanging smiles and warm words with almost everyone that gets on his path.

Kuro's hair is longer now. Straight and shiny and dark as the night, and he wears it tied back in a tiny ponytail at the base of his neck, in a mirrored image of Wolf's own. It's impressive, though, however he styles his hair and whatever the quality of his garments, how much he resembles the small, regal child he had met, in another life, on a day as grey as this one, in the estate of Hirata. Not only his soft facial features, no, but also the good-natured way in which he bows to every familiar neighbor he sees, the kindhearted giggle that escapes from his lips whenever someone says a nice thing to him. Sometimes, Wolf harbors the silly idea that he is only still alive due to being able to hear, at least from time to time, that soft, little laugh.

But then, what kept him alive before? It has been eight and a half years. Eight and a half, almost a perfect half. He has been aware of every day, every hour, every second, and yet, time feels strangely muddled together, the only actual indicator that the passing seasons are not the same over and over being Kuro's growth and the slight, but still noteworthy, greying of his own hair at his temples.

The soft voice rings closer, the light steps approach, and Wolf knows he must leave. He must leave. He must-

"Good morning, mister!" His greeting is so gentle, so lively. It could not be directed at him. How could it be directed at him?

But his big brown eyes gaze up at him, his smile astonishingly authentic, his little face seemingly overjoyed by the fact that he has caught his attention. The complete opposite, of course, as the expression carried by his brother, who seems equal parts surprised and horrified about his small sibling talking with such nonchalance to the man he clearly thinks much worse about.

Not acknowledge him and turn his back to him would be the sensible thing to do, without a doubt. To not encourage him. To let him know with certainty that his lovely smile and his gentle greet are not welcomed nor needed.

...But he doesn't.

He doesn't. He can't. He is a fool, he's weak, and thus he nods his head slightly towards the child and watches as his eyes shine with delight at having obtained a response. He tells himself that it is just this one time, that it will not happen again.

But he knows it's a lie. Because it does happen again. It does happen again, and again, and again.

After that first time, almost every time Wolf visits the market, Kuro appears from somewhere just to greet him, just to wish him a good morning, just to smile at him with that soft, kind expression. It happens alarmingly frequently, almost as if he is actually looking out for the man with only one arm and an unfriendly brow, and not happening across him as a mere coincidence. "Good morning, mister Wolf!" he says as soon as he approaches, apparently having learned his name from another merchant or a worker, or even maybe his own parents.

It's a mistake. It's all a mistake. This shouldn't have happened. It sounds innocent enough, just greeting each other at the market from time to time, as neighbors do- Everyone seems to like and have a little smile in store for Kuro, who is such a sweet kid. His treatment isn't special. It isn't remarkable. For Wolf, however, it means so much more.

He starts yearning.

Although ever-present, his longing has been manageable through the years, as he has find some kind of stability in his dull routine. Nothing is the same- The thrill of the hunt is not as satisfactory as the thrill of the battle, his duty has less of a meaning when he doesn't have an actual master to honor, the small joy of hearing Kuro's voice is not as such when he is unable to look into his clear eyes. But all of it is a small price to pay, one he pays gladly, only for Kuro to be alive and well. He adapted to the tediousness and played it on his favor, passing entire days as in a trance, perfecting his physical skill while keeping out of his head most thought, especially the unwelcomed ones.

But to have a small taste, a small reminder of what was it like to have that kind smile directed at him once more- Wolf feels the crack on his resolve almost as if it was a bodily wound, the thoughts of such soft, gentle face now rushing to him, unimpeded, when the world goes dark and quiet as he tries to catch at least a blink of sleep. And it turns his urges inside out, makes them overflow from his mind and crawl under his skin and cling to his gut, so he cannot ignore them anymore as easily as he did before.

And it gets worse. Kuro seeks for him. He greets him, and smiles at him, and asks him things, trivial things, mundane things- how is it living in the forest, does he go too far away to hunt, is it nice to have so many trees and hills only to himself. Wolf does not know how to respond to most of them, so he just nods or gives simple, single-worded answers, but Kuro still looks at him with a gentleness almost eerie for such a young child, his interest not sated but his intentions seemingly intact. Which are... Well, Wolf does not know. Why is he suddenly so interested in him? Does he entertain all adults he find intriguing with so many attentions and so many questions?

"I like the forest. I haven't been there much- mother doesn't want us to go too deep into it. But I like it. I wish I could live there like you," he says once, his voice childish and still carefree, but his words particularly haunting to Wolf's ears.

Why does he find the forest so fascinating? Is it just a normal fixation for a child his age, wanting to go into the place forbidden by his parents? Is he... Is he unhappy living with the family that raised him, and thus seeking the refuge of a quiet, hidden place? His old self had also liked to pass any free time he could find in the bamboo forests that surrounded Hirata before- _Before_... Wolf knows he may be thinking about this subject too much, and in an unneeded way, but he still has to catch himself before his mind runs along with such unwanted worries, such unwanted memories.

As fall runs its course and the cold winds of the mountains and the seas start to make themselves frequent visitors of the village, Wolf's trips to the market become more spaced out in time, as much of the prey that inhabits the forest also begin to halt their routines to the imminent coming of winter. When he does make the trip, though, and as he has always done before the snow season, he tries to fill the sack at his back and to stack his only useful arm with all of the necessary supplies that he will need to go through the winter- _Necessary_ may be a strong word, though. He has become accustomed to certain commodities that come with times of peace and having no more enemies than the ones produced by his own head, but they are no more than that, small luxuries that he can afford now and has rarely been able to before, like the ingredients to make himself a proper, heated meal, or one or two extra changes of clothes. He reminds himself of it regularly enough that, should the need arise, he expects to be able to fit once more into his old habits, and he has never abandoned the blade and the training of his own body. But he still gets that extra bag of rice, or that small pouch of dried fruit, if he is of a good mood and can make the purchase.

"Mister Wolf! Good morning!"

The morning is cold and the snow seems about to spill from the heavy clouds, but that isn't a detriment for Kuro to be around and to seek for him that day, apparently. Wolf looks at him, taking in his secretly welcomed sight and nodding at him in acknowledgement, his intention being to snap back to what he is doing after a single moment, but- Kuro is wearing his scarf. It's an old and plain and discolored piece of fabric, but Wolf would recognize it anywhere and under any condition, as it has accompanied him for most of his life, until he gave it to Kuro shortly before he was born a second time. He has never seen him wearing the scarf before, even though he has spied him on and about around the village in the cold before. He thought... He thought Kuro's parents would have discarded it, or tucked it away in the depths of an old chest and forget all about it until it tore and dusted away.

"Do you need help with that, mister Wolf?"

Ah. Yes. Wolf returns to his senses and quickly regains his stability, tearing his eyes away from Kuro and back to the cloth sack he is filling with his supplies.

"...No," he says.

"That seems a lot to carry all the way back home by yourself," Kuro insists. "Ah- You do look very strong! But-" Wolf doesn't need to turn his head back towards him to know that Kuro's gentle eyes are looking meaningfully at his arm, or the lack of it.

"I can handle it."

"May I accompany you, though?" The question that comes from Kuro's mouth is so direct that it makes Wolf pause for a second, instead of immediately denying him once more.

He's not being just kind towards him. He wants, for some reason, to walk, in this freezing air and in the company of a man he barely knows, to a house in the middle of the forest- The forest. That must be it. Kuro likes the forest. Or so he had said. He likes the forest as he liked the forest _before_ -

"I will help carry your things," he adds with a soft smile.

As so many things he had done before, Wolf knows this is another mistake. Their relationship, if any had to exist, had to be of mere acquaintances, of mere neighbors that recognize each other due to routine and everyday life. But Kuro seems to be interested in him more than he should, more than logic dictates, and he's so weak, he's so damn weak-

He accepts. He nods once with his head, prompting Kuro to let out a delighted giggle, and Wolf's chest burns painfully at such an endearing sound, knowing that he is doing nothing to protect it as he should.

Kuro helps him with clumsy but earnest hands to fit his supplies into the crudely made bag, and takes between his small fingers one of the smaller sacks to carry it himself- It's nothing that Wolf couldn't manage on his own, but he lets him have it, seeing the gentle expression on Kuro's face at getting to be helpful somehow, in turn for complying with his small whim.

"Shouldn't you tell your family about this?" Wolf asks, shouldering the sack without much effort.

But Kuro shakes his head softly. "It's fine. I'm not with my brother today," he says.

Wolf hesitates for a moment, but then starts walking. After all, he will walk Kuro back to the village again when his curiosity about the forest is sated, and see that he returns home safely and in a timely manner with his own eyes. The lighter, smaller steps resound readily just behind him, and he immediately, almost in an automatic manner, slows down his pace to match Kuro's, in an exact mimicry of what he always did when he had the opportunity to walk at his master's side.

As they enter the first line of trees that leads into the mountainous forest, the busy everyday sounds and voices of the village fade out quickly, and the soft thumps that their feet make over the humid grass resound around them. They don't talk for a while, Wolf leading the way into the smooth slopes, where he can see a path that is not actually marked for the untrained or the foreigner. It's not a particularly hostile trail, however, and thus he trusts that Kuro, in his young energy, is able to keep up with it. He glances at him every few minutes, to see how he is doing, to see if he seems tired or regretful about this adventure, if he is getting too distracted with the enchanting, desolated landscape of the woods to be paying attention to where he steps- But he isn't. He isn't actually looking around too much. He just looks back at Wolf every time and smiles.

"...Do you like it here?" Wolf asks, his voice quiet and reserved. The wintery winds seem to be keeping out of the forest that morning, and the place is more silent than usual.

"Yes. It's cold, but very peaceful," Kuro says, burying his face a bit into Wolf's scarf- Well, it's not really his anymore, is it? "It would be a nice place to live."

Wolf hadn't thought about the place he could probably call home as such, but he isn't in disagreement with Kuro. It's quiet enough. It's solitary enough. It's far away enough.

"Mister Wolf? I wanted to come with you because I- I just wanted to talk," Kuro says, his voice a bit lower, a bit softer, as if he is sure about what he wants to say, but doesn't know how Wolf will react to it.

"...Talk?" he asks. He doesn't know what to expect. He doesn't.

"Yes," Kuro continues, nodding with his head. "To say "thank you". Mother and father, they said you helped me when I was a baby and brought me to them. Ah- It was actually my brother who said it. But then I asked them, and they explained it to me."

What bothers Wolf the most is not that he hasn't thought about it. He has. It was a possibility, and he has always done his best in considering all the possibilities when it comes to important decisions and important actions. It could happen, that Kuro gained the knowledge at some point that he didn't share the same blood as his parents and siblings, and even that he could trace his origins back to him. Not so early, most definitely, but he had entertained such thought. What bothers him, however, is that he has gathered nothing about this. Nothing. Although he does it very moderately these days, he still tries to reunite all the information he can about Kuro's growth, about his family life, to give his mind at least a temporary peace by knowing that he is doing just fine. But he hasn't recollected, at any point, that Kuro has been aware about this for- For how long? Since when does he know this?

"They say you didn't know much and to not bother you, but I just wanted to say thanks. Is it okay if I say thanks?" Kuro asks, oblivious to Wolf's musings, which do not reflect themselves on the always serious, neutral face.

He shouldn't be thanking him. He shouldn't know about him. He shouldn't be talking to him, or smiling to him, or walking with him to his home in the middle of the forest. This is the very thing he was trying to prevent. He has gone soft, undisciplined, his mind turning irrational at the mere sight of these lovely brown eyes. But, the closer Kuro gets to him, the more he gets away from having an actual happy life, far away from the torment and the suffering of his past. Wolf cannot escape from his actions and his memories, from the pain he unleashed and the lives he severed, from the cruelty of war and the innocent lives lost, but Kuro can. He should.

"...Yes," he says, though, not wishing to stir more of Kuro's curiosity, although he doesn't seem particularly... inquisitive about it.

Kuro seems happy enough at such response. "Ah, then- Thank you, mister Wolf!"

He only nods. It's the only thing he can do, besides to keep walking. Although-

"You don't need to call me _mister_ ," Wolf says.

Even when it's a silly thing to think about now, he still feels out of place by having Kuro showing unneeded respect while Wolf, due to the circumstances, is forced to treat him with such a mundane demeanor. Even after all these years, the first thing that pops into his mind before addressing him is still "my lord," and he has to catch himself every time before it actually leaves his mouth. It has become an automatic thing by now, but the process still repeats itself on his head.

"Really? Isn't it disrespectful to call adults just by their name?" There is sincere curiosity in Kuro's voice, and his softly furrowed brow denotes that he truly cares about remaining polite, even with him, who has been quite crude towards him. With most certainty, he would still be kind and gentle even to the most hostile person. Just like-

He really needs to stop with this unfruitful comparison.

"...You don't need to call _me_ that," Wolf clarifies.

"Oh." Kuro seems confused for a moment, but then, as if he has suddenly gain an understanding of the situation, he giggles softly. "That means we are friends now, right?"

No, of course it doesn't. But Wolf doesn't have the heart to say it out loud.

**vii.**

It is, of course, another mistake.

That grey winter morning, Kuro didn't overstay his welcome. As promised, he just helped with carrying his things and then thanked Wolf for agreeing to talk with him. His intention was clearly to return home by himself, and felt slightly flustered, and more than a bit apologetic, when Wolf told him he was going to walk him back. "Thank you, mist- Wolf," he had said, when they stood by the edge of the woods, "I'm glad we are friends now." He bowed to him and ran towards the village.

Afterwards, and for a while, nothing changes. Wolf still, inevitably, crosses paths with him at the market, the few times he walks down to the town amidst the heavy snow and the freezing cold. Kuro wears a coat that looks huge on him, probably handed down from his older siblings, and his red cheeks and nose, flushed from the low temperature, peek out from Wolf's scarf, tightly wrapped around his neck. He greets him with a smile Wolf cannot see, but that still is evident on his warm eyes, and that is it.

However, as winter comes to pass, and the snow melts from the barren hills and the thick branches of the trees, Wolf comes out from the depths of the forest one day to find, standing around the front of his small house, a familiar silhouette. As soon as he hears him approach, Kuro turns at him with soft eyes and a blinding smile.

"Good afternoon! I'm sorry for intruding," Kuro says, bowing to him politely.

Wolf is... Well, surprised is a way to put it. _Dumbfounded_ may be more accurate. He has made the trip back and forth only once. How did he learn the way so easily? Has he underestimated Kuro due to his youth, or the subtleness of the path that leads to his home? Either way, he hasn't had any visitors in the long years he has been dwelling in these forests, and wasn't expecting to start having them now. However, and although he reproaches himself for it, he has been almost completely unable of preventing the most profound parts of him from evoking such feelings of tenderness just by looking at Kuro's face.

Instead of his usual, modest pants and jacket, Kuro wears a yukata that day- Although made of cotton and of simple design, it looks a bit more nicely put together than his everyday garments.

"It is my birthday today. Or, well, the one my parents gave me," Kuro says when Wolf reaches his side. Showing to him the bulgy bag he has between his hands, he adds, "I received some fruit as a gift, and I wanted to share it with you."

His... birthday? Well, yes. It is his birthday. The very same day of the spring equinox. The very same day he was actually born for the second time. How strangely coincident, that his parents thought of precisely that particular day to remember his birth every year. He is sure that he didn't mention a thing to them the night that he left Kuro to their care. And yet, they still chose the actual day that saw him being reborn.

And he is there, smiling and kind and eager to share something nice with him, and Wolf cannot help to comply with it, because denying Kuro is and was something he always had trouble doing, especially when he was a small and lonely kid back then, in a house too big and too empty, with very little means of distraction besides his books, and he- He just can't do it. He can't. He couldn't then, and he can't now.

His inability to tell him no, however, turns into an unexpected situation.

Kuro's visits don't end with his birthday as an special occasion. After that, after he shares some sweet fruit with him as they quietly sit on the veranda of Wolf's small house, he visits again. He shows unexpected the following week, this time with no reasonable excuse, just telling him that he likes to be in the forest and to spend time with him, and that he promises he won't be a burden, that in fact he can help him with any chores that could be done around-

Wolf doesn't ask him, but he wonders why. Why is he doing this. Why does he care. Why doesn't he forget about him already and keeps him out of his life. Because he surely is unable to do so when Kuro looks at him with such gentle eyes and tells him he just wants to be in his company. Wolf understands his own reasons, he understands them too well and too deeply and it is such an appalling thought, how weak he is when it is of the utmost importance that he tries to not be as such, but Kuro's- He doesn't understand anything anymore about him. Even when he is so kind and friendly and kindhearted, there is something that doesn't add up when it comes to his particular fixation to befriend him, a solitary hermit with nothing to offer.

Wolf doesn't ask, but he still warns him. "The forest and what lives on it are dangerous. You should stay around the village," he says, even as he knows that Kuro won't pay any mind to his advice. Of course, his answer is, "but I have you here to keep me safe, don't I?" Wolf doesn't know if Kuro is misinterpreting what he is saying on purpose, or if he is just oblivious to the implications of his words. However it is, he doesn't follow his suggestion, and keeps visiting.

And Wolf- He is a fool. He is such a fool. He genuinely wishes Kuro would keep away, would keep within the borders of the village, would keep around his family. But he still buys fruit from the farmers to offer Kuro when he is around, buys tea to share with him for when he visits in the afternoon, because he loves tea as much as his past self did, _of course_ he does. Wolf even goes out of his way to steal a few books for him from traveling merchants, when, over a casual conversation, Kuro tells him that he hasn't been taught to read properly, except for the few familiar words needed to help in the family business. He should keep his mouth shut, but he still asks Kuro if he would like for Wolf to teach him a bit more, as much as he knows. Kuro's eyes lit in such an endearing manner, and Wolf knows he cannot take it back now. He is probably not a good instructor, but he is patient and Kuro is so smart that he forgets sometimes that, although incredibly similar, the Kuro he has in front of him is not the Kuro from his memories- He even seems to love reading as much as his past self did. _Of course_ he does.

Kuro visits once per week, sometimes twice, sometimes even a bit more, if something extraordinary happens, such as bringing some extra supplies to Wolf or maybe a message from a merchant- He spends so much time around the little cottage on the forest, no longer as silent and solitary as it once was, that Wolf feels as if the dull sameness of his everyday life has been completely, irrevocably disrupted, and he shouldn't be so complacent with it, but, oh, he is, he is and he doesn't know how to stop it now.

He still feels a certain strangeness about it all, as if time has looped into itself, as if the edges between what it was and what it is were purposefully blurred. Which, to be fair, it should be expected, as he is somewhat reliving things that he still has fresh on his mind, even if they happened years and years ago. Sitting in front of Kuro in silent companionship while he reads or drinks tea- Receiving a small, delightful smile when he eats a particularly sweet piece of dried fruit- These are things he remembers having experienced before, and that gently roll around on his mind while he lives through them again. The circumstances may be different, but the feelings are the same, the two of them are the same-

No. They aren't. Kuro isn't. Isn't he...? As this unexpected routine sets into his lives, Wolf starts to have the eerie feeling that Kuro's past self is... _bleeding_ into his new one, somehow. It's a silly thing to even think about- He was born again, he was raised in a completely different context with completely different people surrounding him. And yet, he cannot shake the odd idea from his mind, the notion that there is something of certain weirdness going on about Kuro, even if he doesn't notice. Either that, or his head is set on playing with him. Maybe he is seeing things, things he would wish to see, things that, at the same time, he is terrified of even thoroughly think about.

The only certainty he has, the only he has ever had, is that he is as ready to give his life to protect Kuro in exactly the same way he was to protect his past self, and that at least is a truth that comforts him. It's the only constant truth in his life. It's the only thing that gives it worth.

**viii.**

The first few times he was on the hunt, Wolf had forgotten he was a mortal now.

After all these years, he can admit now that, at some point, when the blood of the Dragon still ran through his veins, he was almost blinded by his cold rage, that he acted too recklessly, too mercilessly, knowing that, even through the infinite pain and agony, he would come back if he fell. After his mortality was granted to him once more, though, it was quite a bit of a process to return to a normal human's mindset about his own wounds, to fully realize that his injuries wouldn't stop bleeding if he didn't tend to them properly, and that taking too many unnecessary risks could prove to be fatal and there would not be any return after that. Still, adapting to new circumstances was something he was particularly skilled at, and wounds became a minor issue in no time, especially when, after all, his only opponents now were just the prey he hunted.

Nothing of this matters, though, when he sees Kuro bleed for the first time.

It's just a superficial, unimportant wound- He scrapes his forearm and his skin splits, as he loses his balance while trying to help Wolf to carry wood logs for the fire, from the forest to the cottage. For Wolf, however, it is incredibly concerning, how the dark blood runs through his pale arm, how his eyebrows furrow in pain. He cannot be this foolish. He cannot live in the past. Kuro can bleed now, can get hurt, can _die_. It is an exaggerated thought, he knows, but the sight of his blood reminds him that he is mortal now. That he is vulnerable. That he has to protect him whatever it takes. It was never his plan to find himself this close to Kuro again, but it has happened, somehow, so at least he should be using the opportunity to be as useful as he can to keep him safe.

Wolf assists him with a clean rag saturated with water, and leads Kuro's arm to rest over his knee for him to clean the wound.

"Oh," he says, wincing slightly. "It's cold." Then, he smiles at him. "Thank you, Wolf. I'm sorry to make you worry- It's just a scrape, really. It doesn't hurt that much."

Wolf looks at him. There is something eerily familiar about how composed Kuro is behaving, even as his arm is swollen red and blood still pours lazily from the worse points of the wound. He winces just the tiniest bit when Wolf presses the rag against it to stop the bleeding, but doesn't cry or protest or fuss too much about it- He even is apologizing for making _him_ worry. Wolf has seen other kids, these last years, and most of them tend to be much more feeble, much more easily swayed than this. Kuro, however, seems to be as calm and composed as he remembers him being _before_ , and he doesn't know what to make anymore of the tightness he feels on his chest when he thinks about it.

Why isn't he loud and cheerful and irritable like all the other children? He is free now. He has been raised on a common, simple family, mingling with siblings and the townsfolk- But, in Wolf's eyes, he is still the too sweet, too kind, too mature for his age kid he remembers from all those years ago in Hirata.

Why is he so different from the other kids? Why does he like tea and reading so much, why is he so soft, why is he so smart? Why does he smile in the exact same way, why does he look at him with such familiar warmth on his eyes? Why does he want to be alone in the forest, why does he want to be around him?

Why?

Wolf truly doesn't know, but is terribly wary of the answer.

**ix.**

Tame and subdued, the fire on the hearth cracks softly as the logs burn and shrivel and, eventually, turn to ash.

The rain has started to fall in full force mere minutes ago, and Wolf contemplates the idea of taking a respite of his usual physical work around the cottage and actually dedicate the obscure, cloudy afternoon to the maintenance of his tools, that are already asking for attention. It is a process that he has learned to the finest detail, and the careful, almost automated movements of his hand over the steel are soothing for his mind, as he forces his thoughts to be completely absorbed with the precision required for the task.

However, as he prepares the old rags and the needed oil-

"Wolf! Are you home?"

The soft, boyish voice actually takes him by surprise. It is pouring outside.

Wolf slides the door open, to find Kuro effectively standing in front of his house, his garments drenched, his hair clinging to his face, his arms raised in a futile attempt to cover himself from the rain. He runs towards the house as soon as he sees Wolf, but stops abruptly when he reaches the veranda, where the roof covers him but it's still on the outside.

"I'm sorry, the rain started to fall from nowhere when I was on the way here," Kuro says, as he squeezes his hair and the droplets of water pool over the old wood at his feet.

The day has been grey and dull since the break of dawn, the heavy clouds announcing the upcoming storm, and it was enough to take one look at the sky to notice. Wolf doesn't say anything, but knows that Kuro risked the possibility of being caught by it while walking through the forest, even if he pretends he wasn't aware of it.

"Don't worry. Step inside," he says, and turns around to fetch a linen towel.

Kuro gets his soaked sandals off and enters the small interior of the cottage with careful steps, mindful of the dripping that follows him, but Wolf motions for him to get closer to the center of the room, where the hearth radiates a cozy warmth.

"You will get sick if you don't dry up," Wolf tells him as he sits on the floor besides Kuro, wrapping his small shoulders with a coat of his own, and rubbing gently the sides of his hair with a clean cloth.

Wolf doesn't really think of what he is doing as he pats Kuro's head with soft motions, transferring the moisture to the small towel. His hair has grown quite a bit, already far past his shoulders, and most times he styles it in a low ponytail or a braid to keep it out of his face. Reaching for the back of his neck, attempting to dry the sensitive parts of his body, Wolf takes Kuro's braided hair and moves it softly to the side, his coarse fingertips pressing softly against the cold skin of his nape. The difference in temperature between them is quite stark, and Kuro lets out a small, curious sound from the back of his throat. He looks up at him with big eyes, and Wolf notices the rosiness of his cheeks.

Only then, entirely too late, does he realize what he is doing. It may have been quite common of a gesture, from a retainer towards his master, especially those with a close relationship as he had with Kuro before the incident at Hirata, to personally see to their physical wellbeing in such a manner. But they are not what they were anymore. Now, this is just an overstep on his part.

Wolf retrieves his hand quickly, as if it were burning, and Kuro just looks at him, suddenly very quiet, his flushed face almost glowing in the fire light. His eyes are not reclusive nor particularly shy, however, and Wolf wonders if he should teach him certain _things_ that he hadn't needed to before- Before, Kuro had the authority that came with nobility, and the only advantage that came with the Dragon's heritage, that which prevented him to get physically hurt in any way. Now, however, and even if he could still see the firmness and resolve in his character, there are some things that he may find useful to know. How to properly wield a knife, how to hide in a dire situation, how to deal with the inappropriate approaches of older people with ill intent. Wolf knows by his own experience how eagerly some can be to take advantage of a seemingly weak, defenseless kid- If anyone with questionable interests comes to feel even a hint of the warm tenderness he feels when he looks at Kuro, he could see it happening, and the mere thought fills him with a long lost, but familiar rage.

"You don't have to remain quiet when someone touches you in a way you don't like," Wolf says.

Kuro blinks at him, as if confused about his words for a moment, but then, unexpectedly, smiles at him, his cheeks still adorably flushed.

"I wouldn't, if that were the case. I never dislike when you touch me," he says.

...What is he talking about? That response is not the one he was waiting for, at all. Wolf's fingertips yearn for the softness of his skin under them again, and this is exactly what he is trying to warn him about. Before, this kind of trust from his lord had meant everything to him. Now, he oscillates dangerously between feeling selfishly relieved that Kuro can still trust him despite everything, and the uneasiness of being an intruder in a life that would be better off without his intervention.

Kuro takes the towel from his hand gently, and finishes by himself the job Wolf started, trying to dry himself just a bit more. For a moment, the crackle of the fire and the drumming rain on the roof is the only sound that remains between them.

"Oh," Kuro says, after a while. Wolf follows his eyes, and his own sight comes to rest upon the various knives and the blade on the other side of the hearth, where they wait, neatly arranged over an old piece of fabric, for him to start with their cleaning. "You have so many."

It's, in fact, a modest collection, but probably a little more than any average household would see on their day to day lives. Kuro's family, however, are blacksmiths. Knives and blades shouldn't be a rarity to him. But his expression has noticeably changed to a more reserved one.

"Well, of course," he responds to himself. "You are a hunter. I'm being silly."

"...You don't like blades," Wolf says.

"I don't," Kuro confirms, as he extends the damp towel near the fire. "I know how it sounds. It's what my father does, and what soon my oldest brother will be doing too. In a while, I will be required to help them. I just... I dislike the mere sight of them. They are so cold. And their sound so cruel."

Much like his past self, Wolf knows that he wouldn't be able to even think of harming anyone or anything with the edge of a blade. The Kuro from before had no other choice than to put up with the violence that surrounded him, and he himself was the one who gave Wolf his sword, knowing that spilling blood was nothing short of inevitable. The boy he has in front of him now, though, harbors on his eyes and his words an aversion for such tools that is more than peculiar coming from such a young person, raised all his life in a peaceful village.

"Ah- Mother doesn't really like when I talk like this of the family business. No one does."

Wolf looks at him with a deep frown. How much has he missed lately about Kuro and his relationship with his family? As it is Kuro who comes to him now, he has almost stopped to check on him secretly, as he did when he was younger. Still, nothing ever seemed noteworthy about it. Kuro talked only sometimes about his older brothers, but he appears fond of them, and not one complain ever came from his mouth about his parents. Although his urgency to protect him from everything claws at him from the inside, Wolf's rationality tells him that everyone keeps their secrets, even Kuro, as young as he is, and that it is not his place, and never was, to meddle in them. (Even if his job had always required for him to breach such privacy to ensure his safety.)

Finally getting his eyes off the blades, Kuro turns to him and smiles once more, his expression a bit sheepish, but not dishonest.

"They are not mean," he says, his voice gentle, reading Wolf's worry on his face with such ease. "I just don't understand them sometimes. Maybe they don't understand me either. They don't really get why I like being here so much, or why I like books better than working with them or spend time with friends my age. I do wish I could be more like them sometimes!" There is something nostalgic on Kuro's expression, something that doesn't belong in his small, tender face. "I won't run from them, though. They are my family, after all, even if I don't like their blades. Sometimes we just have to do what must be done, right?"

_...What?_

Wolf feels the air knocked out of him, as if he just received a physical blown to the center of his chest. _What did he just say?_ How could he...? It's not only the words, but also his face- Kuro's soft smile falls flat into a vacant stare and a frown, as if he is just as surprised about what came from his mouth.

"...Kuro?" Wolf asks, cautious.

"Oh," Kuro says, blinking quickly, as if trying to clear his mind. "Oh, I apologize. I just felt- a bit strange. As if I already lived through this situation, but I can't remember it." He shakes his head softly, and tries to smile at him again. "I'm sorry. I'm saying weird things."

It has to be a coincidence. It is a mere phrase, probably quite common. Kuro's past self had picked it up from Wolf, Wolf had picked it up from his father, and the chain would probably continue so on and so forth, unending. He had probably heard it somewhere, and stuck with him for one reason or another. Because, if not a coincidence, what would the alternative be?

**x.**

Kuro is small and weightless, and so it requires almost no effort from Wolf's part to carry him on his arms through the woods, walking the way back to the cottage at a leisurely pace.

There were days that Wolf spent walking through the depths of the forest, scouting for traces of the prey that he will hunt by night, gathering any new or noteworthy information about his surroundings, or just collecting the useful materials that could be found in such a rich environment. That particular morning, Kuro had showed up at his house at an early hour, and wished to tag along on his stroll. He had never seen his prosthetic arm attached to his person before, and he was rightfully impressed by it, fascinated by the mysterious mechanism that made it work with such precision.

"It was a gift from an old friend," Wolf had said when Kuro asked him where he got such a device.

"Ah! I knew you are actually more friendly than you pretend to be," Kuro told him with a soft, almost teasing voice.

Wolf said nothing to that, but was relieved that Kuro has always been too polite to ask directly about how he lost his arm in the first place.

On the woods, surrounded by seemingly endless trees and constant slopes in all directions, Kuro was as nice company as he always was, avid to know more about everything, genuinely interested in what Wolf had to teach him. However, when they decided to rest for a while near the stream that ran between the steep hills, he had fallen asleep against Wolf's arm in a matter of minutes- It was understandable, being not only so young, but also unaccustomed to such exercise. He had already walked all the way to Wolf's cottage, and the journey from there and into the forest had been quite strenuous.

And so, making use of his lately neglected prosthetic, he has taken Kuro on his arms and started the way back home, carrying him with firm, gentle hands, letting him rest his head comfortably over his shoulder.

The afternoon cold is harsh under the generous tree tops, the sun having trouble reaching the ground though the densely populated forest. Still, the body on his arms is incredibly warm, and it is only then that Wolf notices how long it has been since he has felt this soft weight against him, this encompassing relief at being the recipient of such precious trust, this familiar scent...

Almost without noticing how much his face has leaned forward and into Kuro's head, he noses tenderly the line of his dark hair. It doesn't bear the soft, sweet fragrance of sakura blossoms it once did, but there is still a raw, primal scent there that it's recognizably Kuro's, and that fills Wolf's chest with warmth and misplaced elation, and his fingers with a distant longing. He breathes into it, and wonders how it would feel to chase this scent to its core, to the soft skin below his small ear, to press his face against it and shut off the rest of the world for a moment in the lovely contours of Kuro's body-

He stops himself before his line of thinking becomes even more deranged than this. _What is he thinking?_ His lack of self-discipline is increasingly worrying lately. Wolf snaps his head back into place as soon as he notices what he has been doing while his feet carried him in an almost mechanical way, but the soft, alluring scent remains with him, in the very center of his head, for the rest of the way back home.

It is only when they go down the hill that leads to the cottage that Kuro rouses, rolling his head on Wolf's shoulder in a lazy movement, not particularly alarmed by being in motion and up in the air in someone else's arms.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, his voice sleepy and very quiet, his slender arms hugging gently Wolf's shoulders. "I made you carry me back. You should have just woke me up."

"I'll get you back home," Wolf says.

Kuro looks at him, his eyes sweet and slightly clouded with sleep, and leans forward to kiss his stubbled cheek softly.

"I wish I can stay here with you," he says, low and slow, against Wolf's ear.

 _I wish I can spend more time with you_ , the echo resounds in Wolf's mind.

Such similar words, ushered with the exact same tone, that Kuro had said to his ear many, many years ago, when Hirata was still his residence and the child fancied venturing into the bamboo forests on his company.

"Lately, when I'm with you like this," Kuro continues, burying his face on Wolf's neck, his lips forming the words against his skin. "I feel like I'm about to remember something, something important. I don't know what it is, but I want to know."

Wolf has never felt such a sense of inevitability before. He had thought he could trick fate, but it was futile in the end.

"I think it has to do with my dreams," Kuro says.

"Dreams?" Wolf asks immediately, his steps slowing considerably.

But Kuro remains silent, and dread takes hold of Wolf's throat. He wouldn't push it under any other circumstances, but this he needs to know.

"...Kuro?"

"I- I haven't told anyone about them," Kuro says, his voice small, his face still hidden on Wolf's neck. "But I have... Such strange dreams. I have been having them for as long as I can remember, although they are more frequent lately. I thought they were just what most people dreamed about, but none of my brothers or my friends dreams are like this. They just- They just dream about food, or animals, or being on a ship at the sea. But I... I dream about so many people I don't know, so many places I have never seen."

Wolf's pace halts completely.

"I usually see a woman with a kind and young face, and long dark hair, and eyes that cannot see. She... Wolf, you found me when I was a baby, right? It cannot be that the person I'm seeing is my mother, right? I also see you, but from before. I mean, from before we met. How that could be? And there is- So many times I only see blades, and thunder, and fire and- So much fire, and so much blood."

There are tears on Kuro's voice, and in the moistness on his neck, and Wolf tightens his hold on him without thinking.

"There are also... The big eyes. They are scary, but gentle, and yet I feel so sad when I look into them. They live upon a pink tree with leaves that fall as if they were the petals of hundreds of flowers." Even through his tears, there is a hint of amusement on Kuro's words, a certain fondness for this particular dream. "I know it sounds silly, the thought of a pink tree, but it looks so real in my dreams."

Kuro doesn't know what he is seeing, and yet he sees it. There aren't sakura trees nowhere near the village, and his simple style of life has led him to know nothing about them. But he has seen them. On his dreams. He has seen the Divine Child, and has seen him. And the _thunder_. And the _fire_.

He has seen nothing of this on his current life, and yet, he has seen it all.

**xi.**

Wolf had a dream too, long ago.

As they approached their destination in unknown lands, and the Divine Child's health grew worse and worse with each passing day, with each step they took, Wolf had a dream one night. A dream that, still now, he doesn't know if it was an actual dream or something else entirely.

He was on his knees over a ground he could not see. As far as his eyes went, the floor was covered in sakura blossom petals and blood. The sky was ink dark, perhaps nonexistent. His body was heavy, yet he felt as if he was made of air and smoke.

And there was Kuro.

His chest soared at his sight. At his lovely eyes and his soft face. So lovely, so soft. So gentle.

Kuro kneeled before him, and held his face with kind hands, and kissed him, his lips warm, but also strangely light, as if he wasn't actually made of flesh and bones as he seemed to be. He didn't say anything, just looked up at him with infinite affection pooled on his gaze, and a smile that still haunts Wolf's memories to this day.

Then, he surrounded his shoulders with his loving arms, and pressed his ethereal body against Wolf's, and Wolf held him tight, so tight. On these few moments of bliss, Kuro was safe and alive and his.

He woke up to empty hands and a cold nothingness.

The next day, they entered the Dragon's lands.

**xii.**

"Why didn't you let me stay with you? When you... _found me_ as a baby."

It's a tough question, but Wolf suspected he may had to answer it sooner or later. Contrary to what his original plans were, he had walked back to the cottage in the forest, and sat on the veranda with Kuro still on his arms, with the intention of holding him until Kuro decided it was enough. But, although his tears have dried, he still isn't seemingly ready to part from Wolf yet.

"You were better off with a real family," Wolf says, his voice quieter than usual.

"And yet, I feel like I belong with you," Kuro whispers, without an ounce of hesitation.

Wolf is so terribly torn.

There is part of Wolf that wishes he could somehow honor Kuro's own past sacrifice, and the sacrifice of the wronged child that dedicated the life that remained in her to give him another chance. But the Kuro that is on his arms now deserves to be happy, to be away from his past and his suffering, and Wolf cherishes so much his light eyes, with no shadows of guilt or burdens too heavy for his young age, and wants to protect them just as much.

Sometimes, usually on the hours he spends trying to find an elusive moment of sleep, Wolf wishes he could erase his mistakes. Sometimes, he wonders what would have happened if he didn't fail to protect Kuro on his past life in the first place. Other times, he wonders how could he have prevented this, how could things would have been if he wasn't feeble enough to reject Kuro from the beginning. But there are some times when he wonders, just for the briefest instant, how disastrous it would be if he actually accepted Kuro on his arms and told him it was alright, that he could stay with him, that he is indeed the single most precious thing in his world- Those thoughts are usually the worst, and the ones that require the greatest effort to keep out of his mind on his waking hours.

He is torn, and he doesn't have answers for Kuro now, even if he wishes he had them.

Kuro doesn't demand any.

"Thank you for listening to me, Wolf," he says, tightening his embrace for a moment, his hold around Wolf's shoulders so warm, so loving. "I feel better now. I didn't want you to get sad too, though."

Wolf wonders if his expression is betraying what is happening on his restless mind, but Kuro has always been good at reading him just by looking into his eyes. He was before, and he is now.

Ultimately, the thought that haunts him more than any other is the most important question of them all. Could have this been prevented? Was there ever a way for Kuro to not have those dreams? To not dream of his past self and his past life and his past torment, and to live an existence completely separated from the previous one? Perhaps, perhaps not. It is out of his control, it probably is, but it still feels like a failure to Wolf, like he has failed everyone, but especially Kuro himself.

The only thing that doesn't feel wrong in that moment is Kuro's face, Kuro's beating heart, Kuro's warmth on his arms.

Once, Kuro had told him that, even if he loathed it, even if it made him agonize in guilt over it, he would still use the power of his curse without hesitation again to give him another chance. It was such compassion and care that made him fight until the very end, through death and rebirth, through men and gods. It broke them from the inside and brought the end of everything else, but it didn't change who they were, and how they felt. How Kuro felt about the curse he bore and what should be done with it, how Wolf felt about Kuro and what he would do for him.

He wishes he could say the same, but the sacrifice was not his, the cracks are not his. He wishes they were, but they aren't. He does not deserve Kuro's smile, he knows. But he will do anything he can to keep it in place.

**xiii.**

As the snow falls over the village and the forest, in the core of winter, Kuro is unable to visit as much. The slopes become harsh and dangerous without the optimal physical condition to navigate them, and Wolf, as he did on years prior, asks Kuro to not venture into the woods in this kind of climate. This time, however, the gloominess on his eyes is deep enough to urge Wolf to visit the town as frequently as he can, to at least see him for a moment, to hear his voice for a brief while.

However, when the season becomes more gentle, and the snow finally disappears from the ground, Wolf returns one morning from the forest to find Kuro sitting on the veranda of his cottage, already waiting for him.

The only clue he has to recognize what he sees as reality is the lack of discoloration on Kuro's head.

He cut his hair.

For as long as they have been in friendly terms, Kuro has worn his hair long. Beautiful, soft and dark as the night, his long, straight locks were usually tied back, but still a lovely sight that Wolf was accustomed to see. Before his eyes, though, Kuro looks back at him with a smile and his hair cut above his shoulders, barely reaching the middle of his neck. He looks... He looks exactly the same as he remembers him from almost twelve years ago. Only its color, now completely black, forces Wolf to not get lost into remembrances of the past.

"Do you like it? I cut it myself," Kuro says, consciously threading his fingers through the now short ends.

"...A fine job for someone who doesn't see eye to eye with blades," Wolf says, approaching and leaving the bunch of tinder wood on the side of the house to join him at the veranda. Fortunately, his voice came out as steady as always.

Kuro giggles softly. "I just used shears."

Sitting at his side, Wolf knows he won't be able to take his eyes off him for a long while. It is an urge he tends to get when he is around Kuro at any time, but right in this moment, it seems a most impossible task.

"I have always had my hair long, but- I wished to know how it felt, to look like I see myself on those dreams," Kuro says, quietly.

They remain silent after that. Kuro hadn't brought up that topic since the afternoon he told Wolf about them. But, after a moment, he speaks again, suddenly.

"Oh. Now that I told you about it, I always wondered- Is this scarf yours?" Only at his question does Wolf notice that, as he usually does in winter, he is wearing his old scarf. He must mean that he has seen him on his dreams wearing that same piece of cloth. "Mother also gave me a bracelet. She told me it is mine from when I was a baby, but wouldn't let me use it when I come out into the forest. Is the bracelet also yours?"

"No. Only the scarf," Wolf tells him.

At that, Kuro nods, and carefully unwraps the fabric from around his neck, to then lean towards Wolf and put it around his shoulders with gentle hands.

"It is yours now," Wolf says, frowning.

"Thank you for giving it to me when I needed it. But I want to return it to you now."

Kuro's eyes are so warm, and his hands linger on Wolf's shoulders for a moment, until he lowers his arms and his small fingers seek Wolf's hand with soft movements. It's a short, gentle caress, but the trace of his fingertips burn sweetly on Wolf's skin when Kuro retrieves them after a moment.

He feels as if his self-restraint has been worse and worse lately, and Wolf, he- He should keep Kuro away. Especially now, especially when something has seemingly shifted between them, especially when he looks so much like he remembers him. As always, his rational mind tells him that Kuro would be better off keeping his distance, that returning back to him would be the worst outcome, that he should be building a new life for himself, away from the remindings of the past- He knows, though, that it is too late for that now. Kuro is already too comfortable with Wolf, with his presence and his company and even his touch, and the only way to actually keep him away would be to disappear completely from his life. And he knows that is what he should do. But he can't. He can't, he can't. He's weak, he's selfish, and he cannot bear the thought of not seeing such a kind, sweet face in front of him ever again, not now, not after so long.

**xiv.**

The day winter turns to spring, Wolf is already waiting for him when Kuro approaches the house from the path that leads into the forest. It has been a meeting that had repeated for the last few years; on the day of his birthday, Kuro would always visit to share with him some of the gifts he had received, usually fruits or sweets. This time, it is late afternoon when he reaches the cottage and smiles from the distance at Wolf, who is sitting on the veranda with a book on his side. His own gifts had always been the same, a new book he would store on Wolf's home to read when he is around; books are... not very easy to come around as a commoner, but Wolf manages. He always does.

Kuro turns twelve today. That was the last birthday his past self had been able to count.

"Wolf! Look what I got today," Kuro says as he reaches the veranda, showing him the small sack he holds between his hands. It is full with a bunch of oval-shaped fruits, between yellow and orange in color, some of them still attached to short, blossoming branches that release a sweet scent. "The farmers brought them here recently from another town. Don't they look nice?"

Although Kuro sounds as peppy and lively as usual, his eyes don't reflect the same energy. Wolf doesn't ask about it, but Kuro shares his troubles by his own volition while they share a cup of tea, sitting side by side on the veranda.

"I apologize for coming so late today," he says, his voice soft and quiet. "Mother and father had to let me know what they expect of me now that I'm old enough. I wish they could have left it for tomorrow." He smiles, perhaps trying to be humorous, but his smile doesn't reach the rest of his face. "They expect me to start to help more with the family business. My older brother will be in charge of it, of course, but we should still support him in any way we can. But... Sometimes I would like to be less selfish than I am."

"Selfish?" Wolf asks, genuinely surprised about such choice of words.

Kuro nods. "I want my brothers to succeed, and the family business to do well. I just- I just want no part on it."

By now, it was to be expected. Still, Wolf wishes he could make such restlessness disappear from his eyes.

"There are so many things I would like to do instead. I would like to live here in the forest with you, or maybe travel to lands I don't know and can't even imagine. I wish I could put up a delicious food place in a nice city, or perhaps- perhaps a teahouse on a quiet town in the countryside. There are so many things-" Kuro stops himself abruptly, and then shakes his head slowly. "I know it is selfish of me, but I can't help it."

Wolf doesn't know what to say, or what to think. Kuro's dreams and wants are not an impossibility- But all of them would mean parting from his family, and come back to Wolf again. And that's... That's what he is trying to convince himself to not do. His young life has already taken so many unexpected twists and turns, and Wolf is at a loss about what is the correct thing to do anymore. He- He only wants for Kuro to be able to smile genuinely. That's the least he deserves.

The silence lingers between them for a long moment, until Kuro snaps back into a lighter mood and tries to smile once more.

"Do you want to try one of these?" He asks, taking into his hand one of the yellowish fruits.

Wolf isn't sure he has seen them before, but they smell sweet and acidic, and look a bit like a strangely shaped plum. He nods, and Kuro just- He doesn't hand it to Wolf as he expected; instead, he kneels beside him and just brings his small hand towards his face, apparently wanting for him to bite into the fruit as Kuro holds it.

When Wolf bites into it, the flesh of the fruit gives in easier than he thought it would.

"Oh-" The fruit is soft and juicy, and Kuro barely catches with his fingers the liquid that spills from it, trying to not get his yukata dirty. It's the only one he owns, the one he uses for special occasions, and Wolf knows he cares for it dearly, so he cups Kuro's small hand with his bigger one, helping him to contain the juice that runs through his skin. Kuro giggles softly, his amusement quite honest this time. "So messy! Are they nice, though?"

Wolf nods. They are quite nice indeed, tender and sweet and with a bit of tartness. Gently, he guides Kuro's hand towards his own lips, encouraging him to take a bite too. Kuro does, trying to be careful, but the glossy juice overflows from his small mouth and a thick, single drop rolls towards his chin.

Wolf doesn't think twice when he reaches for it with his thumb, and wipes it gently from his skin.

Kuro, however, looks at him intently when he leans forward towards his thumb to softly kiss the droplet away.

He- He needs to back away now. Even if the soft brown eyes and the lovely pink lips and the flushed porcelain skin draw his gaze and his body and his mind to them as if he were spellbound.

Wolf tries to retrieve his hand, but Kuro stops him midway, taking it with his own, his small fingers locking with his in a firm but gentle hold.

"Wolf, don't-" he starts, but doesn't finish his phrase.

Instead, he gets even closer, and kisses him.

Wolf is floored. Frozen in place. He cannot move his body, he cannot think. His... His lips are so soft. So soft, and so warm. His gentle hands are soft and warm, as he cups Wolf's face, the fruit thrown away and forgotten. His entire body is soft and warm and so small, as he presses himself against Wolf, attempting to be as close as possible. Kuro kisses him once, twice, a third time and a fourth time- He kisses his cheek and his jaw and just below his eye, kisses the corner of his mouth and then his lips all over again.

Of all the things he has done, taking Kuro by his shoulder and gently pushing him away is the one that has ever required the most effort, the most discipline, for him to go against his most deep and raw desires. Looking into Kuro's devastated eyes at the rejection, and not cave in to his wishes immediately, is a close second.

"No, Wolf, _you don't understand_ -" Kuro whispers, and approaches him once more, the firmness of his movements enough to make Wolf's hand hesitate. "I feel like I will lose my mind if I cannot be close to you like this," Kuro says against his lips, his breath as sweet and heated as his words. "Don't you feel it too? How fast is my heart beating?"

Kuro guides his hand towards his chest, pressing his palm and his fingers against his warmth and his roaring heartbeat. It is not necessary- Wolf could feel his agitation against his fingertips anyway, the rhythm wild and entrancing.

Oh, he _does_ understand, he understands it so much it hurts. But Kuro is _so_ young, and so full of life, and he is free of the bounds that kept him from living his life to its maximum, and Wolf- Wolf is just an unremarkable old man, a lonely recluse with nothing to offer anymore, not even his loyalty, as such a thing would be meaningless for Kuro now. And yet, his eyes are so warm, and his hands so tender, and his lips so sweet-

"You are so good to me, Wolf, and I- I just cannot remember why- I _wish_ I can remember why," Kuro says, cupping his face again, looking at him to the eyes. His voice is so full of longing, so full of need. "I _can_ do with not remembering for now, but- I _need_ you to kiss me. _Please._ "

It's almost like those words are some kind of strange enchantment. It may be, in part, because he cannot stand Kuro pleading like this- The raw edge of desperation on his voice not only makes the blood boil on his veins, it also makes his body move almost by itself, seeking to placate Kuro's urgency. And thus, he cradles his head on his hand, and kisses that lovely, small mouth as if in a trance, as if taken over completely by his deepest longings.

Kuro sighs against his lips, and surrounds his neck tightly with his arms. His kisses are a bit clumsy with inexperience, but still so soft, still so eager. _So eager._ His mouth is pliant, his tongue hot and sweet with the fruit's flavor, his hands soft as they caress the back of his neck, the length of his hair. There is such a shattering tenderness in all of Kuro's movements, in his lips and his fingers moving against him, and Wolf doesn't know if it's just his own, from his new self, or also carries within the wants and longings of his past self too.

"Oh, Wolf- I resent the mere thought of being apart from you," Kuro says, his kisses trailing towards his jaw, his lips brushing the lobe of his ear.

Wolf's rationality still tries to convince him to turn back, to push Kuro away, to stop this madness before it becomes irreversible- But his neck is so close, and his scent calls to him- As Kuro whispers into his ear, Wolf buries his nose into the softest part of his throat, kissing the pale, vulnerable skin, his fingers curling into the neck of his yukata to push it down and away just a bit, just enough to uncover his shapely shoulder, to press a path of heated kisses through it.

"We have already been apart for too long."

Wolf pauses at this, and raises his head to look at him. What he just said is-

"I doesn't make any sense. Sometimes my thoughts don't make any sense. But it's something I just _know_ ," Kuro says.

Regaining certain sense of clarity, Wolf closes his hand around his naked shoulder, but as soon as Kuro notices, he leans forward to forbid him from making any distance between them.

"No, I- I don't care about it, I don't need it to make sense," Kuro whispers, moving to straddle Wolf's legs, his cheeks flaming red but his voice and his actions devoid of any doubt. "I only want you."

"Kuro-" His name comes from his lips tinted with a low groan, as Kuro grounds his hips against his own, the motion frantic and wonderful and sudden enough to take him by surprise.

Wolf is so shamefully hard, every part of his body yearning for the lovely boy he has on his arms. How could he fight this? How could he fight these warm eyes, these pretty pink lips, this unbridled, small body so full of fervor and love? He should be stronger than this, but he isn't. He isn't. He just want to merge with him, wants to feel his trembling breath against his own, wants to keep him tight against himself, now and forever.

He kisses him once more, threading his fingers through his hair, while Kuro's small, eager hands seek to release Wolf's hardness from his garments- Although stumbling with his own urgency, Kuro wraps his slender, warm fingers around his cock, and the sound on the back of Wolf's throat is coarse and low, finding an immediate echo on Kuro's softer, much lovelier moan.

"There isn't a single night I don't think about this, Wolf," Kuro says, as Wolf kisses his face, his heated cheeks, the soft line of his hair. "About you. About you, against me, inside of me, all around me."

Wolf knows Kuro is young, that he is young and in the age where boys start to think about this sort of thing, but his words still inflame his own desire, even if he is pretty much an old man by now. He has no excuse, no excuse at all- However, he _has_ had the same kind of thoughts, of Kuro wrapped on his arms, of his skin damp with sweat, of his lips open in delight and pleasure. Even if he wished such imagery away on his waking hours, too disgraceful and hurtful to bear, they still crawled into his dreams and clung to his mind for long nights afterwards.

No image conjured by his head is as beautiful as the actual Kuro is, though, and no fabricated sound as sweet as the moan that comes from his mouth as he presses his own smaller cock against Wolf's, the pressure heated and exhilarating. Kuro tries to stroke them both with his hands, but his fingers are short and his movements a bit awkward- As such, Wolf covers his hand with his own, and takes over it by himself, reveling in the sobs that break free from Kuro's lips, on how he rolls his hips forwards as their members slid together and in the confinements of his grip.

Kuro clings to his neck and moans against his mouth, kisses him erratically, chants his name between broken cries- His body shakes deeply, from its very core, when he comes between them, suddenly and with astounding intensity. And his face- His face, strained with pleasure and completely disarmed, is the single most lovely thing Wolf has ever seen. It only lasts for a blissful moment, until Kuro's head falls to Wolf's shoulder, bonelessly.

"Wolf- I'm sorry, I-" he whispers, trying to excuse himself for some reason, his breath labored.

But Wolf kisses his hair and says, "you don't have anything to apologize for."

Kuro raises his head slowly after a moment, and smiles at him with heavy eyes and red cheeks. "You are so sweet, Wolf."

He leans forward for a kiss that is soft and slow, but Kuro moves his hand again, still around Wolf's hard cock, leaving his own out of it after being depleted already. Wolf wishes he could say to him that he doesn't need to worry about his sorry state, that he can deal with such a burden by himself, but, instead, he closes his hand once more around Kuro's, and strokes his own cock with firm, steady movements. For some reason, Kuro seems as excited by his pleasure as he was by being on the receiving end of it, and his kisses gain cadence and heat, their tongues licking into each other, Wolf's groans mixing with Kuro's breath messily and delightfully.

Overthrown by his fulfillment, Wolf comes hard between them, between the small body pressed tightly against him and his own, giving into his urge of burying his nose deeply into the heated, incredibly soft skin at the exact point where Kuro's shoulder meets his neck. On his pleasure, his mind is filled only with him, only with Kuro, and Wolf wishes time could stop like this, with his arms full of his tender body and his nose full of his lovely scent. On these few seconds of bliss, Kuro is safe and alive and his-

Like he thought he was on that dream, that dream from long ago.

Wolf snaps out of it as his chest drowns with coldness, remembering what happened last time. Remembering the cold, the void, the nothingness. However, when he opens his eyes and looks up, he is greeted with warm eyes and the kindest face. He cups Kuro's neck gently on his hand, to make sure he doesn't vanish this time, to make sure he is real- _Is he real?_ He won't disappear from his arms this time?

Kuro looks at him with infinite tenderness.

"I'm right here, Wolf."

**xv.**

The night closes around them, but they remain oblivious of their surroundings. Their attention is just on each other, on each other's eyes, on each other's bodies. Wolf kisses every and all parts of him, rolls his mouth over the entirety of his warm, naked skin, swallows his moans and his sobs and his own name directly from his fervent lips. He cannot satiate himself of Kuro's scent and warmth, and it is only when Kuro can't keep himself upright anymore that they cease their deepest and boldest exchanges, and bask for a moment in their bodies pressed against one another, in their intermingled sweat, in softer kisses and lovingly tangled fingers.

"...It is late. I will escort you back home," Wolf says, his voice low and quiet, clearing Kuro's tired face of the dark hair sticking to his temples.

Kuro's soft expression turns slightly gloomy at such words.

"I don't want to go home- to _that_ home."

Wolf doesn't have the right to lecture him. He bears the fault for this happening.

"...Your parents will worry," he says, even as he buries his face gently on his hair, Kuro's warm breath tingling his cheeks lovingly- Even as he feels physically unable of parting with Kuro right now. There is a voice in the back of his head that tells him he should take distance, especially after what just happened, but his body just won't have any of it.

They remain in silence for a moment.

Then, "...Wolf. Who am I?"

Although the words are sharp like a blade to his ears, Wolf would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't expecting this question anytime now. He raises his head slowly, supporting himself on the mattress of the old futon and looking down at Kuro's eyes. They are still soft, still warm, but there is as much tenderness as there is wariness on them, and something else behind, something complex and much mature than his young face is.

"I'm not sure what my dreams mean, although I can make a guess. Whatever it is, I know it's painful for you too," Kuro says, reaching for Wolf's face with a hand, caressing with kind fingertips the contour of his jaw and his disarranged hair. "But I only feel at peace- _at home_ , when I am with you. I don't know what it is that bound us, but I do know that you are what I care for the most, above anything else. And that there is more to myself, to _us_ , than what I know, than I can remember. And I wish to know, but it is also scary. It is very scary sometimes."

Wolf is grounded at such confession. His chest is tight and hot at his soft words and his tender gaze and loving hands, but he also feels a terrible unease about it all. He has known, of course he has known, but to hear Kuro explain it like this, to open his heart so wide and into such a vulnerable position-

Kuro's past self could never confess his fears and worries to him, even if he wanted to. He carried with him such a heavy burden, such a terrible guilt, most of which he had decided to bear by himself. His present self, however, has found enough confidence, has lived free enough, to be able to do so. And, as such, Wolf cannot back out now. To honor the memory of the Kuro from the past, and the trust of the Kuro from the present.

At times like this, he wonders if he is being unfair to Kuro, to the Kuro he has in front of him right now, the Kuro that can bleed, the Kuro that looks up at him with eyes that could contain the entire world. He wonders if what he feels for his older self is too ingrained in the center of his body to ever be able to let it go entirely. If he would have fallen so deep and so hard for his present self if the ties that bounded them on the past weren't there.

And yet- Kuro was supposed to be born a new, mortal person, was supposed to live a normal life by his own, to carve his own path, to experience everything that life had to offer at his pace, on his way. There should have been no Wolf in the picture, no unnecessary reminders of the past, of a tormented existence that ended too soon and suffered too much. And yet, nothing seems to be like it should, nothing at all. He couldn't keep away- Kuro couldn't keep away, from him or from his own past self.

At some point, Wolf had thought the feelings and memories of Kuro's past self were taking hold of the Kuro he has in front of him, that they were bleeding into him for some reason he couldn't understand. Now, he has to ask himself if there has ever been two different iterations of Kuro at all. Are they two different people? Or are they one and the same? They may have lived different lives, but could it be that Kuro's consciousness remains as one, even if there are some parts that are still asleep inside this new, mortal body?

He fits in such a lovely way on his arms, on his bed, his small body wrapped on Wolf's own, his young heartbeat resounding softly against his skin. Tightly close to him, where he can cherish him and protect him and dedicate his every breath to his happiness and safety. _As it should be_ , his traitorous mind thinks. His head seems to go back and forth between thinking about this as the single, most lovely thing he can remember experiencing, and filling him with wariness about how dangerous this is, how much he is giving into his feelings and how he may still be able of backing away- He's just trying to fool himself. There is actually no such chance.

There is no chance he could keep away from Kuro now, and there is no chance he can keep the truth from him anymore.

"...I can tell you about your dreams- about yourself. Whenever you wish to hear it."

Maybe he just tricked himself into thinking that Kuro could start completely anew, when that never was the case. He only wanted... He only truly wanted to keep Kuro away from suffering, too keep such a kind soul from being torn apart by war and men's greed. Now, far away from the lands that saw him dead and years apart from the fall of Ashina, it seems that the suffering was never going to be fully avoided.

But he is still there. Wolf is still there. If he cannot protect him completely from the anguish that seems to be tied to his very soul, then he will help him to bear the burden this time. He has made so many mistakes, but leaving Kuro on his own will not be one of them. Not this time.

Kuro seems at the edge of tears, his eyelashes heavy with wetness, but he still smiles up at him, his eyes full of love, and relief, and perhaps even dread, but his expression is nothing but determined.

"...Thank you, Wolf."

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I had to write something resembling a "good" ending at some point. I guess the end is a bit open, though, but I wanted it to finish on that kind of mood. This looks like a cute scenario to return to, though, so maybe I will write something more for it sometime.
> 
> Also, I really apologize for fridging the Divine Child for this scenario to play out. It's just how the idea came to me, since her journey in this ending is very self-sacrificing, so it made sense for this story that it would happen like this. I don't know if I actually agree with this whole theory of "she is pregnant and Kuro gets to reincarnate," but I do think that she may not survive the quest, especially after her itako-like transformation. These poor characters don't get a respite in canon, and we are out here making it worse.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading!


End file.
